


Shall We Dance?

by GalahadThePure



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Clothed Sex, Crossdressing, Frottage, M/M, Riding, dancer class Urianger, fun with glamour plates, the gang runs gubal for glam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28335168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalahadThePure/pseuds/GalahadThePure
Summary: Urianger has always been a master of healing arts, but when it comes to using his skills for fighting, he finds himself somewhat in the dark. The Warrior of Light suggests he takes up the mantle of the Dancer, offering to loan him her soul crystal to use for an excursion to the Great Gubal Library. However, after attuning to the soul crystal, the elezen finds himself in a rather risque set of glamour!
Relationships: Urianger Augurelt/Thancred Waters
Comments: 9
Kudos: 50





	1. Chapter 1

The line of tarot cards lay neatly arranged on the desk within the Rising Stones, their backs embossed with the finest of gold leaf and twinkling under the dim light of sconces. The room was quiet, still, none but pupil and master examining the layout before them. A brawny, Sea Wolf Roegadyn woman looked down at the cards before her, rubbing her chin as she fixated on the setup. Her aquamarine eyes glinted as she concentrated, darting from one end of the desk to another. Magic was never her strongsuit, healing magic especially so, yet with the aid of the Elezen man beside her, she knew she would overcome this trial. For her mentor was none other than Urianger Augurelt, Scion of the Seventh Dawn, and she Ceiglona Orodom, a Warrior of Light.

“Think carefully now,” Urianger instructed, “The card thou shalt draw is predestined, yet how thou shalt apply it willst determine whether thy allies will receive its boon or not.”

Ceiglona extended her hand, the bluish white flesh of her fingertips brushing against the weathered card. Her bushy, dark eyebrows knitted as she drew the card, flipping it over to reveal the insignia on the back. Scrawled onto the card was an image of a vibrant, green tree, a small sun sigil poised in the top center.

“Now, willst thou tell me the card thou hast drawn?” Urianger asked, quizzing his pupil.

“I’s the Bole, right?” Ceiglona replied, her thick, Lominsian accent permeating through her speech.

Urianger smiled gently as he looked at her card, confirming she had named the arcana correctly.

“Very good,” he encouraged, “Now, werest thou embroiled in a battle, fighting alongside a ninja, a gunbreaker, and a red mage, to whom wouldst thou bestow the Bole’s blessing?”

“Hmm,” she pondered, “I guess I’d give i’ to the red mage. The Bole makes mages and ranged fighters stronger, dunnit?”

“Thou art correct. Now, imagine a different fate. Mayhap one where thou hadst drawn a card as such instead.”

Urianger hovered his hands over the cards before him, closing his eyes and concentrating as he plucked another from the arrangement. He grasped it between his fingers, an insignia resembling an arrow being drawn through a bow embossed into the front.

“Tha’s the Arrow, right?” Ceiglona asked.

“Correct,” Urianger replied.

She smirked as she took the card from his hand.

“Ye can’t fool me with this one, Uri,” she said cockily, “I’ve been hittin’ the astrology books for weeks. Sure some folks would think ‘oh ye, is’ an arrow! Better give it to the ranged attacker!’ But I know this one’s a tricky bugger. I’d give thissun to the ninja, cuz the arrow is for melee fighters.”

Urianger smiled gently, slowly clapping his hands to encourage his pupil.

“It appears thy efforts in study hath borne fruit,” he praised, “Well done, Ceiglona.”

“Aww, thanks!” she grinned, patting him on the back hard enough to knock the breath right out of the poor Elezen’s lungs, “I mean, I’m still nowhere near your level. Bet me friend Owen would chew me out if I gave some sod the wrong card, but I guess that just means I got even more room to improve.”

“Thou hast already made vast improvements from whence thou initially attempted the craft,” he choked, trying to catch his breath, “Didst thou not attempt to throw thy cards at the striking dummy, as opposed to casting malefic?”

“I… thought it would work…”

“Well, in any consolation, thy progress only further cements that thou hast honed thy skills on thy journey. Keep attending to thy practice, and thou shalt become a master astrologian soon enough.”

Ceiglona nodded, her training with Urianger coming to a close for the day. As she began to pack up her cards to shuffle back into her deck, she heard the door to the Rising Stones creak open, a familiar face stepping inside. They were a midlander, perhaps an inch or two taller than her ally, Thancred, similarly clad in a white jacket with a gunblade slung on their back. Their cocoa brown hair was swept to the right side of their face, their bangs slightly obscuring their auburn, right eye. Due to their sensitivity to aether, the Hyur had heterochromia, their left eye a similar aquamarine to Ceiglona’s, a blade thin scar over it that matched hers as well. Freckles spotted their cheeks, and a pencil thin moustache stretched across their upper lip, a goatee sprouting from their chin. Ceiglona grinned at the sight of them, waving her hand and shouting to get their attention.

“Zeffiro!” she beamed, “Oy, Zeff! O’er here!”

The Hyur made eye contact with Ceiglona, smiling gently as they walked over to her. Even though they were slightly above average height for a midlander, they barely settled at chest height on their friend. It was the nature of the beast with her being a Roegadyn, but that still didn’t stop her from playfully teasing them about it. She rested her hand atop their head, ruffling their hair spritely.

“What brings ye here sod?” she asked.

“I was actually wondering if you’ve seen Goro anywhere,” they replied, “I haven’t seen him anywhere in the past few days.”

Ceiglona looked aside, racking her brain. Her husband, Goro, was quite the eccentric. He was a brilliant Au Ra scholar who knew not only how to heal and cast spells, but could also swing a claymore better than even the best dark knights in Ishgard. But even though he was a kind soul and brilliant mind, he was introverted to a fault, and had a certain obsession that persisted even after decades away from it. Ceiglona sighed, shaking her head.

“The damn whoreson went to bleedin’ Gubal again, didn’t ‘e,” she groaned.

“Well, if he’s not with you, I’d say that’s a safe second guess,” Zeffiro responded.

“I beg thy pardon,” Urianger interjected, “But what business does thy spouse have in the Great Gubal Library?”

“I dunno if I ever told you this before,” Ceiglona explained, “But the bugger used to live in that library for decades. Not a soul knew ‘e was there ‘til our friend Owen found ‘im and dragged ‘im outta there to create our free company.”

“I take it he is feeling homesick then?” Urianger inquired.

“More like lookin’ for summat he misplaced,” Ceiglona continued, “Goro ‘ad this real nice set o’ armor ye see. But when ‘e left the Library, ‘e forgot the cuirass. The poor sod’s obsessed with gettin’ it back. ‘Ell, he’ll spend weeks in there lookin’ for that godsdamn thing.”

“If such is the case, I certainly understand thy concern. Pray, go fetch him. Twould be a tragedy were he to starve to death.”

“Goro’ll be fine on food an’ water. ‘E’s told me plenty o’ times ‘ow ‘e can conjure food an’ drink from certain tomes in there. But it’s more ‘bout nippin’ ‘is obsession in the bud. We’re all bloody worried for ‘im.”

Ceiglona tucked away her deck of tarot cards, placing it in her holster on her hip before straightening out her gown.

“So looks like I’m gonna have to go an’ get ‘im,” she sighed, “Zeff, can ye call Owen on yer linkpearl? Gonna need ye guys to help me fer when Goro inevitably resists.”

“I would,” Zeffiro sighed, “But one of his old friends recently moved to Eorzea from Sharlayan. I believe his name was Celeber? So Owen’s sadly preoccupied at the moment helping him get settled.”

“Gods dammit… It really ain’t a smart idea to go into that place alone… Goro’s probably fine. Wouldn’t doubt if all the monsters in there know ‘im by bleedin’ name… but we should at least find one more ‘venturer to join us, if not two for a light party.”

Urianger’s golden eyes lit up. He had just thought of the most brilliant idea.

“Ceiglona,” Urianger suggested, “Wouldst thou be opposed to Thancred and I coming to thy aid?”

“Hmm,” she thought, “You lot were mighty helpful when I went to the First, an’ I feel like I can especially trust the two o’ ye. Sure! Why the ‘ells’ not! Lemme just change into me machinist gear an’…”

“Actually Ceiglona,” Urianger interrupted, “Mayhap thou couldst try thy hand at healing. I feel thy skills as an astrologian hath improved enough, and twould be sublime practice for thee.”

Ceiglona looked down at her current garb, her gaze shifting between the Elezen and the Hyur.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no to more practice,” she said, “But what would the rest of ye do? I dunno how well two gunbreakers and two astrologians would fare in Gubal.”

“I have an idea,” Zeffiro added.

They set their gunblade aside on a table, stripping off their coat and tying it around their waist to reveal a black tank top. They immediately changed stance for brawling, throwing a few experimental punches at the air to show their prowess.

“I’ve been practicing a lot of hand to hand combat lately,” Zeffiro explained, “If we have Thancred as our gunbreaker, then I’ll gladly be our monk.”

“Well, that settles one problem,” Ceiglona continued, “But there’s still the issue o’ goin’ in with two healers. Come to think o’ it Uri, have ye ever learnt anythin’ other than healin’? I mean, before ye were an astrologian, ye were a scholar, right?”

Urianger scratched his head in thought. While he was quite well versed in the arcane arts, he had primarily used it to heal instead of fight. Theoretically, he could learn the art of summoning, but alas, though his Echo made him immune to the Primals’ tempering, he had not personally encountered Ifrit, Titan, and Garuda enough to summon Egis of them. In hindsight, perhaps it was personally foolish for him to take on another healing art, but at the time, he needed to be well rounded in his skills as a healer to protect both Thancred and Ryne.

“It appears that we hast arrived at quite the vexing quandary,” Urianger sighed, “Would that were Y’Shtola, Allisaie, or G’Raha Tia present. They couldst compensate for the lack of fighters. Alas, they are committed to other duties at present…”

“Seven ‘ells…” Ceiglona grumbled, “Now I’m regrettin’ not teachin’ ye ‘ow to fire a gun in exchange for your healing tutoring sessions… It sadly ain’t a skill one can just learn overnight… If only there were a nice an’ easy class for ye to pick up…”

Zeffiro snapped their fingers, Ceiglona’s words inspiring something within them. They reached into the pocket of their pants, rummaging around for a particular stone.

“Actually, there might just be a class he can pick up quickly,” Zeffiro said.

They pulled their hand out of their pocket, their fingers uncurling to reveal a small, light pink crystal. It was vaguely heart shaped, and engraved with a mark resembling a chakram.

“Wait a tic,” Ceiglona commented, “Ain’t tha-“

“The Soul of the Dancer,” Zeffiro explained, “I may not be as well versed in all martial arts as Owen is, but I found the Dancer class quite easy to pick up.”

“Now that ye mention it,” Ceiglona thought, “Dancer is pretty bleedin’ straightforward.”

“Wouldst I truly be able to learn the class so quickly?” Urianger wondered, “Loathe to admit I have ne’er been a good dancer.”

“You’ll see once ye attune to the soul crystal, Uri,” Ceiglona explained, “I ‘ad two left feet before I picked it up. But now, I can dance with even the best of the Troupe Falsiam!”

“Well, if thou dost insist…” Urianger replied, “I do not wish to be a blight upon our party for mine lack of understanding of the art.”

Ceiglona pulled out her own Dancer soul crystal, tossing it over to Urianger. The Elezen scrambled to catch the tiny stone in his hand, looking down at the glinting, pink crystal now nestled in his palm. It emanated a calming warmth, and carried not only Ceiglona’s wisdom of dance, but the cumulative knowledge of all of the dancers who came before her.

“I’ll let ye attune to mine fer now,” Ceiglona said, “But if ye like dancin’, I can always ask Ranaa for an extra one for ye.”

“Art thou certain?” Urianger asked.

“Course. An’ I have all o’ me gear set up with it too, so ye can just borrow it fer the time being. Might be a lil’ big on ye though.”

Urianger closed his eyes, gripping the crystal tightly as he attuned to its aether, to the knowledge and memories preserved within it. Wisdom of dancers past flooded his mind, imparting on him their skills. He could see their choreography in his mind’s eye, the precision by which they would throw their chakrams, the lightness of each standard and technical step. It became clear as crystal, and despite having never danced before, he felt like he could now easily emulate the choreography he had just witnessed.

As he opened his eyes, he noticed Zeffiro staring at him, blush creeping across their freckled cheeks. Ceiglona on the other hand looked like she was holding back laughter, some chuckles cracking from her mouth as she tried to hide her giddiness.

“Ceiglona?” Urianger wondered, “Might something be the matter?”

“I forgot I ‘ad cast _that_ glamour on me dancer gear,” she giggled, “Lookin’ good Uri.”

Urianger looked down at his body, only for his face to go bright red. This outfit was a far cry from what he expected. Ceiglona typically preferred to wear dark clothing, crafted sensibly and covering much of her skin. Yet this outfit was the complete opposite, frilly, pink, and somewhat lewd. He covered himself up bashfully, trying to avert his gaze and preserve his dignity.

“Pray tell me thou hast another glamour I couldst wear…” Urianger flushed, “Or mayhap thou couldst dispel it?“

“Fraid I’m fresh outta glamour dispellers. Why? My dancer outfit not to yer taste, eh?” she teased.

“I wouldst not have expected thou to go gallivanting through dungeons in such attire, nay…”

“I think it’s cute meself. And it does look good on ye! You’ve certainly got the hips fer it!”

The Elezen sighed, pulling the hem out the outfit’s skirt down further to preserve his modesty before turning to Zeffiro.

“Might thou have an option that wouldst better suit me?” he asked.

“Well, if I’m being honest,” Zeffiro replied bashfully, “Mine might be even more revealing than that.”

“I always wonder what yer wife would think if she saw ye runnin’ around in a gold, bunny chief bustier, Zeff,” Ceiglona giggled.

“You’d be surprised,” Zeffiro responded, “Violet actually loves the outfit on me. So long as I choose her to be my dance partner.”

“Fair ‘nough,” Ceiglona smirked.

“Mayhap tis not a good idea after all,” Urianger regretted.

“Come on Uri,” Ceiglona begged, “I’s just fer one dungeon.”

Ceiglona gave him the pleading eyes of a wolf pup, her lower lip quivering as she pouted.

“Pretty please?” she entreated, “I just wanna make sure me ‘usband is alright.”

Urianger sighed. The Scions, no, all of Eorzea owed much to the efforts of Ceiglona and her merry band of warriors. She had fought for him, bled for him, had her name dragged through the mud just to keep the people of their star safe. He supposed the least he could do was help her out here, even if it meant temporarily sacrificing his dignity.

“I…” Urianger conceded, “I shall meet thee at the Library. Pray inform Thancred of our duty as well.”

“Thanks a million Uri!” Ceiglona beamed, “Yer the best.”

***

Thancred’s rental chocobo chirped sheepishly as it approached the Great Gubal Library’s daunting edifice. The Library was quite the feat of Sharlayan architecture, even if it had fallen victim to decades of disrepair since its abandonment. The chocobo came to a halt at Gubal’s door, ruffling its feathers and squeaking out a delighted “kweh” as Thancred dismounted. He patted the bird gently on the head, dismissing it to return to Idyllshire. As the chocobo dashed away into the hinterlands, Thancred looked around the entrance. It appeared the others had yet to arrive. He leaned back against the hard stone wall of the building, making himself as comfortable as he could while he waited.

Shortly after, he spotted two mounted warriors flying in from the distance, a roegadyn atop a bloated, fat cat and a hyur on a salt swallow. The two landed atop the staircase, dismissing and dismounting their rides.

“Glad ye could make it Thancred,” Ceiglona smiled, “Hope I wasn’t interruptin’ nothin’ by askin’ for yer help.”

“Of course,” Thancred replied, “I didn’t have anything particularly exciting planned for today.”

“Thank the Navigator. I wouldn’t want ye to be breakin’ any poor lassie’s heart by standin’ her up,” Ceiglona teased.

Thancred shook his head, “I’ve put those day behind me, Ceiglona.”

As Ceiglona and Zeffiro approached the Library’s door, Thancred’s eyes remained transfixed upon the horizon. They were still missing one party member.

“Have you two seen Urianger?” he asked, “I thought you said he would be joining us today.”

“He was supposed to,” Zeffiro replied, “Maybe I should have bought him some better glamour. Nothing against your fashion sense, Lona, but the one you gave him was pretty…”

“Mine apologies for my tardiness,” a familiar voice said, “Twas difficult to find a porter for mine journey here.”

Thancred clasped his hand over his mouth, blush creeping across his cheeks. Urianger had finally arrived, but the glamour he was clad in caught Thancred completely off guard. A pastel pink, dirndl bodice enrobed his torso, the frilly shirt beneath so low cut that Thancred feared Urianger’s chest would pop right out of its confines. Two flower corsages wrapped around his wrists, and a lavender orchid was tucked behind his ear. A frilly, pink skirt settled around his hips, just short enough to reveal a pair of pink panties if he bent over or if the wind whipped up, and a pair of white, skin tight, thigh high boots clung to his legs.

“Pray cease thy staring Thancred…” Urianger sighed, “Tis embarrassing for thou to look at me so…”

“Oh, umm…” Thancred cleared his throat, “My apologies.”

“Looks like the gang’s all ‘ere then!” Ceiglona cheered.

“If Goro’s in there, he’s probably already beaten back some of the monsters inside,” Zeffiro said, “But I think we should still be on our guard, just in case.”

“You lot ready to head inside?” Ceiglona asked.

“Sure,” Thancred replied, “I’m ready to go when you are.”


	2. Chapter 2

The doors to the archaic library creaked as Ceiglona pushed them open, the rusted hinges resisting against her force. Yet even as an astrologian, Ceiglona’s brute strength remained, and she was still able to pry the entrance open. The four stepped inside the building, looking around the musty interior. Bookshelves crammed with tomes lined the walls, stretching all the way to the vaulted ceilings while impish familiars prowled the grounds, hunting for those who might intrude upon their sanctuary of knowledge.

“Goro!” Ceiglona shouted, “Ye in here sod?”

Her words echoed throughout the chamber, making several imps and ink stains turn their heads. They growled devilishly, charging towards her, only for their blow to be intercepted by Thancred.

“Ceiglona,” Urianger warned, “Tis not wise to alert the enemy of thy presence. Thou dost not have armor to protect thee shouldst thou come under fire.”

“Wasn’t tryin’ to provoke ‘em or nothin’,” Ceiglona explained, “I just wanted to see how far ahead Goro ‘as gotten. I woulda heard ‘im squeal if ‘e were close. Goro must be deep in the library’s ‘eart by now.”

“Mayhap some of the more dangerous beasts have already fallen by his blade then,” Urianger pondered.

“Nah, knowin’ ‘im, all ‘e ‘ad to do was walk into their chamber and they’d let ‘im pass like ‘e was some sort of old bleedin’ friend or summat,” Ceiglona sighed, “But we’ve gotta find a way to cut our way through.”

“I’ll lead the charge then,” Thancred added, “I trust you’ll keep me alive, right Ceiglona?”

“I’ll try me damndest to,” she smirked.

She closed her eyes, remembering all she had learned in her travels; from Rufin, from Giott, and most recently, from Urianger. Ceiglona pictured the sky above her, deciding which sect would suit their battle. As Thancred was a gunbreaker, he already had the benefit of regenerative cartridges on his side. Perhaps the protection of Nocturnal Sect would be a greater boon, as the sentinel of the moon would serve as his shield. She raised her star globe, casting Nocturnal Sect before healing Thancred with a Nocturnal Aspected Benefic.

“Well done, Ceiglona,” Urianger smiled, “I wouldst have chosen the same mineself.”

Now protected by the Nocturnal shield, Thancred ran further into the library, pulling an additional pack of enemies. As Urianger readied to join the fray, he looked to Zeffiro, holding out his hand as he stepped into closed position.

“May I have this dance, Master De’Silver?” he asked.

Zeffiro nodded their head, accepting him as their dance partner, “Certainly.”

Thancred clicked his tongue in irritation. Although it was common courtesy for dancers to choose another adventurer specializing in attacking as their partner, the exchange somehow struck a nerve with him. He wasn’t the jealous type. Given his history as a former womanizer, he didn’t have much reason to be. Besides, Zeffiro was also taken, having a wife who they loved dearly. Perhaps it was something about the glamour he was wearing, but Thancred wanted to monopolize Urianger, and seethed at the thought of anyone other than him seeing him looking so erotic.

“Oy! Thancred! Watch where yer standing lad!” Ceiglona shouted.

Thancred was brought back to reality with a harsh attack from an imp. He winced in pain as he endured the blow, but soon after felt the gash seal closed. Ceiglona was certainly getting better at healing. It was as if the wound was never there in the first place.

“Was pretty bleedin’ obvious where that thing was gonna attack,” she scolded, “I’ll pull my weight if ye don’t go standing in godsdamned pitfalls.”

“My bad Ceiglona,” Thancred said earnestly, “I got distracted. I’ll try to keep my focus from now on.”

As soon as the last imp fell, the four continued their jaunt through the library, descending the ephemeral staircases until they reached the first chamber. Where a demon wall used to stand now sprung forth a new monstrosity, the Demon of the Tome. Ceiglona drew a card from her deck, the glimmering gold of The Balance shining on its face. She tossed it in the air, granting its boon to Zeffiro, who soon felt an empowering aura surround them. They and Thancred charged towards the fiend, while Urianger and Ceiglona stayed back to attack the demon from a safer distance.

Even though Urianger had only just taken on the mantle of a dancer, part of it felt familiar. He wasn’t certain if it was merely due to the soul crystal’s attunement, but in a way, this new class didn’t seem too different from astrologian. Though he didn’t have to worry about healing the party, he too was capable of providing powerful buffs for his allies, even if it was only for his dance partner and himself. The method was different, but the effect was the same. Instead of looking into the heart of the arcana, he instead found himself looking into his own heart, and the heart of his dance partner, to bring empowering inspiration. He held his chakrams high, stepping forth as he let the rhythm of battle guide him. Pirouette, Entrechant, finish. Jete, Emboite, finish. The flow of battle felt so natural. He didn’t have to worry about keeping everyone safe. All he needed to do was trust in his allies, and inspire them to fight on.

Ceiglona on the other hand looked like she was about to snap at Thancred at any moment. It was certainly good practice for her healing abilities, but she felt if she didn’t remain on her toes, Thancred would be taken out of commission by an otherwise avoidable attack. He seemed like his head was in the clouds, distracted, lost. This wasn’t the Thancred she knew. Ceiglona was never wont to put in additional, stressful work, especially when she knew he was better than this. As the team continued their assault, Ceiglona noticed the Demon of the Tome readying its next attack. Bookends sprung up around them, rumbling as if preparing to close in on them. She knew very well what was about to happen next.

“Thancred,” she growled, “Get hit by one more ‘Folio’ and yer gonna have to heal yerself, mate.”

Thancred tried his best to run to safety, yet as he was about to enter a safe zone, something caught his eye. With the energetic way Urianger was dancing, the elezen was dangerously close to a nip slip. This absolutely wasn’t the time to get distracted. Even with the great defensive capabilities of a gunbreaker, he was not immune to Urianger’s charms. The outfit did him little favors too. Urianger was never one for revealing clothing. From that stuffy robe and hood in his days as a scholar to even his astrologian gown, the elezen always preferred to dress modestly. But because of his reserved nature, it only made moments like this, where he was wearing something that accentuated his already radiant beauty and embraced his innate sex appeal, that Thancred felt he could lose himself to his lusts.

The short-sleeved undershirt highlighted his toned biceps, and the bodice itself framed the perfect hourglass that was Urianger’s torso. Even with the tightness of the corset, his chest still seemed hardly contained within it, the fabric of the undershirt slowly sliding down. All it took was that flash of pink against Urianger’s ruddy chest, glistening with sweat and hardened with adrenaline, for Thancred to freeze in place.

“Oh bloody hells,” Ceiglona cursed.

She held aloft her star globe, muttering an incantation to rescue their daydreaming gunbreaker. Thancred felt himself pulled off of his feet, swept to the sliver that was their safe zone as the book-like edifices slammed shut behind him. If Ceiglona hadn’t cast Rescue, he would have been a goner.

“That’s yer last warning Thancred,” she snapped, “Pull yer damn weight or I’ll let you rot…”

“Understood… I’m sorry,” Thancred apologized.

With a few more strikes from Zeffiro’s fists of fury and tosses of Urianger’s chakrams, the demon finally fell, dissipating into the aether. Urianger rushed to Thancred’s side, leaning over to make sure he was ok. Thancred’s face went bright red. Whether it was unintentional or not, the angle at which Urianger tilted forward gave Thancred a view straight down the shirt, flashing his pert nipples and supple pectorals that already struggled to remain confined within the bodice.

“Art thou well?” Urianger asked, “Mine apologies if Ceiglona’s healing is not what thou art accustomed to. She is still learning the craft.”

“Oy! Don’t fuckin’ apologize fer me!” she hissed, “I ‘ave every right to be pissed off when our gunbreaker is doing a shite job of keepin’ ‘imself, and the res’ of the party fer that matter, safe!”

Thancred turned away from Urianger, knowing he’d only be more distracted just from looking at him. He bowed his head to the roegadyn woman, earnestly prostrating himself so she knew his intentions.

“I promise you, Ceiglona,” he replied, “I won’t let myself get distracted again. Now, let us press on.”

The party moved on from the now empty chamber, following the dim corridors deeper into the library. Ink stains, sentient books, and flame elementals roamed the hallway, barring the four from their next checkpoint. Ceiglona turned to Thancred, nodding to him to encourage him to get the entire pack’s attention. She was a bit stressed, but confident that she could heal him through it. Thancred steeled himself, running through the groups of enemies while firing off his ranged cartridges to maintain their enmity. As much as he wanted to, Thancred had to resist looking back at Urianger. It was his responsibility to keep the party safe, and a moment of distraction would spell disaster for all of them.

The group moved now at a well set pace, Thancred gaining the enmity of the spawns within the library, Ceiglona healing his wounds, Zeffiro unleashing a flurry of attacks with their fists, Urianger buffing and supporting them. Their synergy was superb, and now that Thancred was actually focusing on the task at hand, Ceiglona found herself enjoying the excursion. The four paved through a thin corridor, cutting down mimics that had taken the form of tomes in an effort by the curators to protect the knowledge within the library. No sooner did the last one fall lifeless on the floor did a massive grimoire appear, gusts of wind flowing from the pages as it opened.

“Guess this is ‘ow we get to the platform up there,” Ceiglona said, “Don’t mind me then!”

She ran to the open book, the wind aether captured inside of it propelling her onto the next level. Zeffiro followed immediately after, leaving only Thancred and Urianger on the floor below.

“Wouldst thou carest to go ahead?” Urianger wondered.

“Tell me you aren’t afraid of heights too…” Thancred worried.

“Nay, but…” Urianger choked, gripping the hem of his skirt, “I fear this glamour will not stand against the wind. Should I proceed before thee, thou mayest glimpse what lies beneath…”

“Say no more,” Thancred replied.

He rushed to the book, propelling himself up onto the platform where Ceiglona and Zeff were waiting for him. If it were any other circumstance, Thancred wouldn’t say no to an upskirt view from his lover, but he knew even the slightest glimpse would throw him off the rhythm he and his party had established, and it would become increasingly difficult for him to hide his excitement. Urianger was the last to join them on the platform, the full group now facing off against their next foe, The Liquid Flame.

“Seems kind of ironic,” Zeffiro said, “Having something that could so easily destroy all of this knowledge if it got out of hand, guarding it.”

“We can talk all about the irony of it later,” Ceiglona sighed, “First thing’s first, we gotta take this bugger down.”

Ceiglona drew a new card, the Spire this time, and granted its boon to Urianger. With this card played, Ceiglona now had acquired marks of the sun, the crescent, and the moon. She fanned out her deck, dropping a magic circle of pure cosmic energy at her feet, empowering the entire team. With this buff at his disposal, Thancred charged at the mass of flame, cleaving his gunblade into it. Though it was a being made of fire, the Liquid Flame’s body put up similar resistance to a slime. It was far from solid, but his blade could still touch it, still damage it. He almost felt bad for Zeffiro having to fight such a fiend using only their bare hands, fearing that a single touch would char their knuckles to a crisp, yet the other midlander seemed to pay no mind, striking the foe fervently.

This sentinel was still no pushover. It released wave after wave of unbearable heat, the pain only abated by Ceiglona’s quick casting, and the arena itself seemed to slowly erupt into a sea of flames. Only with skillful dodging was the party able to avoid the scorching heat of its eruptions, but even with their synchronicity, the flame beast still had its tricks. In desperation, it threw out a tether, latching itself onto Urianger. The elezen cringed, unaware of what was to come.

“Urianger!” Zeffiro warned, “Run as far away from the liquid flame as you can! The closer you are, the harder its blow will hit.”

Urianger nodded his head, following Zeffiro’s guidance. As warned, the monster attacked, making Urianger grit his teeth in pain. Fortunately, Ceiglona was quick to heal him, tending to the burns and gashes from the blow.

“Thank thee,” Urianger panted, “Both of thee.”

“Don’t mention it Urianger,” Zeffiro replied.

“Pray, allow me to return the favor.”

Urianger stepped forth, shaking his chakrams as he broke into dance. His footwork was completely standard, but he was light on his feet, and moved as if he were floating. Urianger was absolutely mesmerizing, and despite his best efforts, Thancred couldn’t look away. By the time Urianger finished his steps, Thancred found himself frozen in place. It was as if he was paralyzed, but at the same time, he felt warm, comforted. He wanted to watch Urianger dance. He wanted to pull him close, to dance with him, to embrace him. Even with Ceiglona and Zeffiro here, Thancred didn’t care. He was entranced.

“Seven ‘ells?” Ceiglona wondered, “Since when did this bleedin’ monster inflict _charm?_ ”

Ceiglona held out her star globe, chanting the spell Esuna in an effort to cure Thancred of his affliction. Yet the charm would not abate, and Thancred knew the reason why better than anyone. He wasn’t charmed by the Liquid Flame, no, the source of his charm was none other than the elezen dancer on his team; his old friend, his dear lover, who was blissfully unaware of just how sexy he actually was.

“Don’t worry Ceiglona, I’ve got this!” Zeffiro shouted.

Zeffiro clenched their fists, a powerful aura surrounding them as a blade of light materialized in their hands. They had ascended past their limits, swinging the blade before them to finish off the living flame. Once the beast had retreated, Thancred snapped out of his charm. Even after he promised Ceiglona that he would remain focused and protect the party, he shirked his duties for the sake of his own carnal desires. Were it not for Zeffiro’s limit break, he could have endangered the entire party, all because of his lack of self-control.

“Sorry I couldn’t get that charm offa ya, Thancred,” Ceiglona apologized, “Guess it was one of those afflictions that ye ‘ad to wait out ‘stead of curin’ it with Esuna.”

Thancred was half tempted to correct her, but refrained from it. He knew the Warrior of Light well, and if he told her the truth that he became charmed by watching Urianger dance, she would certainly tease him for it for weeks, maybe even months.

“Well, at least the Liquid Flame is defeated,” Thancred replied, “I think we owe our victory there to you, Zeffiro.”

“Don’t sell yourself short Thancred,” Zeffiro insisted, “As a gunbreaker myself, I can tell you know what you’re doing.”

“Come on now lads,” Ceiglona interjected, “Remember what we came here for. We still need to find Goro.”

The party left the platform behind, entering the next corridor. In comparison to the rest of the library, this part looked oddly clean and organized, ill befitting of an old abandoned building. Goro had always told her he had learned how to summon porogo familiars during the time he lived in the library, and these little frogs always kept the place looking neat, even if he lacked the motivation to clean. Yet to her surprise, these halls were empty. No porogos, no ink stains, no speedreaders, nothing. It was as if all the foes that protected these halls had already been dispatched. That could only mean one thing.

“Goro’s nearby,” she said, “C’mon. With any luck we’ll find him soon!”

Ceiglona took off into a sprint, darting up the staircases and through the halls.

“Wait, Lona!” Zeffiro urged, “There still might be enemies up ahead.”

The rest of the group ran to catch up with her, their speed hastened with a quick cast of peloton from Urianger. Fortunately, it seemed there was still not a single sign of monsters ahead. Not even the feral Apanda appeared, the book in which it was sealed lying charred on the ground. Finally, the three caught up with her, only to see Ceiglona standing frozen in her tracks. A wall of aether had sealed her off from the final chamber, and all she could do was watch and shout as she witnessed the duel within. An auri dark knight sparred against the guardian of the library’s knowledge, an owl like demon known as the Strix. He was clad in silver and gold armor, a helm covering his bone white horns and long, braided, platinum blond hair.

“Goro ye godsdamned fool!” she yelled, “What the ‘ell are ye doin’ fightin’ that bastard by yerself! You’ll get yerself killed!”

“Foul bird!” he growled at the beast before him, “You will return Goro’s jacket unto him, or you will perish by his blade!”

“Goro come on!” Zeffiro added, “It’s been years! That cuirass is probably long gone by now!”

The au ra seemed to pay no mind to the cries of his friends, continuing his onslaught against the fiend. Yet even though he was facing such a dangerous foe alone, he seemed to be one step ahead of each of its attacks. If it tried to strike him with its talons, he would parry the blow with ease. If it attempted to release a quake, Goro ran to a levitation spot, dodging the attack entirely. Even being turned into a water imp wouldn’t stop him, the dark knight running to a puddle to dispel the transformation and continue his assault. He wore the look of a man unhinged, one who had nothing to lose, and a beloved cuirass to gain.

“I know just the tome for you!” the Strix hooted, flying over to the bookshelves along the walls.

Ceiglona swallowed hard in fear. Having learned a bit of the arcane arts herself, she knew what spell this monster was casting. It was attempting to summon a behemoth. Even with the best armor and skills in the world, so much as being grazed by that monstrosity’s Ecliptic Meteor would spell her husband’s demise.

“Goro! This ain’t funny anymore!” she yelped, “If ye let that soddin’ thing kill ye I’ll never forgive ye!”

Her words finally reached him, the au ra facing his wife and smiling gently at her. Even as she fumed and panicked, he still appeared completely calm.

“Ceiglona,” he smirked, “Goro is flattered that you would wish to procure his jacket for him, but there is no need. For Goro shall fell this beast himself, and leave the library with his treasured prize!”

“Oh seven ‘ells…” Ceiglona fretted, “How do ye think yer gonna survive that thing’s meteor without a healer! You’ll die Goro! The cuirass ain’t worth it!”

“You have no need to fear, my captain. Goro will finish this now!”

He stuck his claymore into the ground, dark energy surrounding him. A limit break? Was he intending to shield himself through the meteor’s impact? But before his shadowy aether could surge forth as a shield, something unthinkable happened. Ceiglona’s jaw dropped at the sight. Goro had managed to channel the aether from the ground beneath his feet to the weapon itself, practically tripling it in size. He cleaved it forward, dealing the final blow to the Strix and making both it and the Behemoth it summoned fade away into nothingness. He slung his claymore over his back, celebrating victory as the aether wall barring the party from the chamber fell.

“Pray tell,” Urianger gaped, “Twas mine imagination, or didst thy husband use a defensive limit break for offense?”

“Iunno how, but the bloody bastard did it,” Ceiglona replied, “Not sure whether I should be pissed or impressed.”

The four entered the chamber to meet up with Goro, watching in anticipation as he opened the treasure coffer left behind by the Strix. He had made it this far and defeated such a powerful demon all by himself; Ceiglona could at least save her lecture until after he claimed his well-earned reward. Goro’s palms grew damp with sweat in sheer anticipation, almost too slippery to pry the coffer open. As the lid slowly began to rise, he saw a telltale pair of leather pauldrons and a fur-lined collar. He shrieked in excitement, tears of joy welling up in his eyes.

“Finally… After all these years,” he beamed, “My jacket…”

His heart sunk as he opened the chest all the way. Instead of the signature vibrant red leather of his beloved cuirass, he was greeted with a greenish blue instead, the mark of armor suited only for dragoons.

Goro said nothing, though one might have spotted a teardrop from his helm.

“Come on now Goro,” Ceiglona comforted, putting her hand on his shoulder, “It’s not the end of the world dearie. There are plenty of pretty chestplates and cuirasses out there! ‘Ell I’ll buy you a new one if ye want.”

“Goro doesn’t _want_ a new one!” Goro cried, “Goro wants his jacket! For Goro is rather cold…”

“Goro please,” she cooed, “Let’s go home. The ‘ole free company has been worried about ye.”

“Goro thinks he will stay here a bit longer. Maybe a few hours, maybe a few days. A week wouldn’t hurt. Gubal is Goro’s home.”

Ceiglona’s brow twitched in irritation. She loved her husband to death but this obsession with his cuirass was getting way too unhealthy.

“Listen ‘ere Goro,” she threatened, “I was tryin’ to be nice, but ye can’t stay ‘ere! I’s not responsible!”

“Goro doesn’t want to leave!” he grumbled.

“Love, we can do this the easy way…”

She cracked her knuckles, scowling at the auri man before her.

“Or the ‘ard way” she sneered, “I’s yer choice.”

“No!” he protested, “Goro isn’t leaving without his jacket!”

“Ye bleedin’ asked for it then…”

Ceiglona lunged towards Goro, trying to pick him up off the ground, but the au ra fought back, digging his talons into the floor as he curled up around the open coffer. He looked like a dragon protecting its hoard.

“Irvgor Orodom… I swear on the fuckin’ Navigator…” she growled, “LET! THE COFFER! GO!”

“NO!” Goro hissed.

“A lil’ ‘elp ‘ere lads?”

Urianger stepped out of closed position, making Ceiglona his new dance partner. Though in battle, it wouldn’t be wise to dance with a healer, his empowering buff could be a great help. He stepped into a jete, then an entrechant, finishing to grant Ceiglona strength. With that small buff, he was able to tip her strength over the edge, as the roegadyn woman pried the struggling au ra off of the coffer.

“PUT GORO DOWN!” he screamed.

“Keep strugglin’ Goro,” she sighed, “Yer only gonna make an arse of yerself.”

“Goro, you know you can always ask the free company for help if you want to look around Gubal for your cuirass,” Zeffiro explained, “You’re our friend, so please don’t come in here alone anymore. It’s dangerous.”

“Goro can handle Gubal,” he explained, “It’s only the bird that gives Goro trouble…”

“Seems like whate’er we say jus’ goes in one ear… erm… horn… an’ out the other,” Ceiglona said, “This is an intervention. The sod’s gotta learn we’re draggin’ ‘im out for ‘is own good.”

Goro stopped struggling, giving up as Ceiglona carried him to the Library’s exit, Zeffiro in tow. As she was about to step out, she turned back to Urianger and Thancred, saluting them.

“Thanks for yer help, you lot,” Ceiglona smiled.

“Wait,” Urianger said, “What of thy soul crystal?”

“Ye can hol’ onto it fer now and give it back later,” she replied, “I gotta get Goro back home an’ get some food and drink in ‘im. Twelve only knows when he last ate, or what it was for that matter.”

“Excuse you!” Goro objected, “Goro made himself some vodriga jerky last night!”

“That ain’t helpin’ yer case, dearie,” she grumbled before turning back to her fellow Scions, “See you lot at the Rising Stones.”


	3. Chapter 3

Urianger and Thancred stood in silence as the motley crew rode away from the Great Gubal Library on their trusty steeds, fading away until they were naught but specks on the horizon. The silence between the remaining two wasn’t so much painful as it was awkward. Thancred knew Urianger wasn’t wont to speak, unless it was on a topic he was passionate about; in which case the Elezen had a tendency to ramble. Yet even with his history of flirtations and spinning sweet nothings, Thancred’s words seemed to catch in his throat around Urianger, especially with him looking so breathtaking, dare he say, erotic, at the moment.

Urianger wasn’t one of the girls he would pass fair weather with as a temporary reprieve to his otherwise stressful life. He was his other half. The Elezen had nurtured him, offered him solace and friendship, advice and company when he needed it most. They had practically raised a child together during their time on the First. If anything, Thancred should be completely comfortable around him. But moments like this made him feel like a schoolboy smitten with his first crush. How desperately he wished he could sing praises of Urianger’s beauty that would put the greatest bards in Eorzea to shame. Yet here he was, tongue-tied, even for want of speech.

To his surprise, it was Urianger who broke the silence. Though he was able to mutter out little more than a flustered “pardon,” it was still something. It made Thancred’s pulse jump from practically stopped to a racing beat, his face growing hot as the tip of the Elezen’s ears flushed red. Thancred cleared his throat, trying to catch the bone Urianger had thrown him.

“Yes Uri?” Thancred replied, trying to sound as suave as he could, only for his voice to crack.

So much for being a charmer…

“Wouldst thou call for a pair of rental chocobos?” Urianger asked, paying no mind to his voice cracking, “I fear I hath forgotten mine linkpearl at the Rising Stones.”

“Oh, of course,” Thancred responded, forcing his voice to the deepest part of his register to cover his previous blunder.

He raised his hand to the linkpearl in his ear, calling up the nearest porter, run by a goblin in Idyllshire. A voice on the other end responded, practically speaking directly into his mind.

“Pshkoh!” the goblin porter exclaimed, “Horse birds for rent! Renter want?”

“Yes, could you please send over two rental chocobos for a trip from the Great Gubal Library to the Rising Stones in Mor Dhona?” Thancred requested, “One midlander sized, one elezen sized.”

“Psh! Big apologies for uplander! Gobble fears small selection! Only one roe horse bird and three lala horse birds in stable! Uplander still want roe horsebird? Can fit one hyury and one elzen!”

Thancred pondered the option. He had seen the size of chocobos bred specifically for roegadyn riders. Why Ceiglona’s personal chocobo, a red-feathered bird named Benedict, was nearly twice the size of the ones Thancred typically rented. It may be a bit of a tight squeeze, but it should still fit the two of them.

“Fine, we’ll take the roegadyn sized horse bi- I mean, chocobo,” Thancred conceded.

“Pshkoh! Gobble will send chirper to Gubal!” the goblin porter cheered, “Uplander pay shinies to Mor Dhona porter. Fourty shiny shiny gil for trip!”

“Thank you. Good day sir.”

Thancred removed his hand from his linkpearl, turning to Urianger and sighing.

“A bit of bad news,” Thancred said, “Their chocobo selection was pretty limited. I could only get us a roegadyn sized one. You don’t mind riding one tandem, do you?”

“Mahap,” Urianger replied, “But wouldst thou allow me a selfish request?”

“Define selfish.”

“Pray lend me thy coat to cover mineself. I fear that should we return to Mor Dhona mounted upon the same steed whilst I am clad in such glamour, twould reflect poorly upon the Scions’ reputation.”

As beautiful as Thancred thought he looked, Urianger did bring up a good point. Even after settling down, Thancred had already built up quite the reputation for himself as a playboy. Were he to ride into such a bustling hub of adventurers with Urianger mounted tandom and wearing such a frilly and revealing outfit, rumors could fly around that he had taken a callboy from one of the pleasure barges in Limsa. But it would be even worse for Urianger. Few people still recognized his face, but the mark of the Circle of Knowing tattooed upon his cheek was as plain as day, and since he was still an enigma to many greenhorns, they may very well see this as his “true nature,” however wrong they may be.

“It might not fit you very well,” Thancred chuckled, trying to dispel Urianger’s worries, “Hope you don’t mind.”

“Such matters not to me,” Urianger replied, “For I intended to wear it as a cloak. So long as it covers me until we enter our haven, I needn’t care about wearing it properly.”

Thancred shed the leather coat from his body, stains of dirt and dried blood soiling what would be otherwise pristine white fabric. As much as he wanted to be a gentleman and drape it over Urianger’s shoulders for him, the Elezen was nearly a foot taller than him, and his shoulders slightly broader. Thus did Urianger have to crouch down slightly, Thancred throwing the jacket over his shoulders. As expected, it didn’t completely cover him. The coat’s hem that normally fell around the middle of Thancred’s calves was just barely over Urianger’s knees, and if he tried to slide his arms through the sleeves, the seams in the back, already struggling to hold the garment together from wear and tear, would have surely popped.

“It looks good on you,” Thancred complimented.

“Thank thee,” Urianger replied, “Though I don’t doubt it looks rather foolish with this glamour.”

“Well, it’s not a perfect match per se… but there’s still a bit of charm about it.”

Even if the coat was merely draped over Urianger’s shoulders, the sight of it still lit a fire in Thancred’s belly. Back when he fooled around, one of the things he found sexiest was waking up to a girl wearing his shirt and nothing else in place of nightclothes. Something about seeing a part of himself on the one he desired just drove him wild, even more so when it was Urianger wearing it. Because Urianger’s body was so much larger than his, it made this fantasy a bit more difficult to practice, but seeing him with his coat draped over his shoulders helped to fill the void, even if only a little bit.

Thancred heard a faint “kweh” in the distance, noticing a large, yellow chocobo sprinting up the stairs to come pick them up. It skidded to a halt, bending down to allow the two to mount it. Thancred got on first, sitting in front not only to steer the chocobo on the off chance it got lost, but also cover up the front of Urianger’s body. His jacket did a good job of completely covering the back of the glamour, but much of his front, especially the dangerously low cut bodice, would have been on display if not for Thancred blocking it. Urianger mounted behind him, his arms settling around Thancred’s waist as his chin nestled into the crook of Thancred’s neck. Feeling his warmth so close was comforting, and the way the Elezen’s larger frame enveloped him made Thancred feel at ease. Yet there was a certain danger to it as well. With Urianger pressed against him like so, it was only a matter of time before his thoughts would begin to wander. He shook his head and cracked the reins, making the chocobo take off towards their destination.

Urianger’s grip on Thancred’s waist grew tighter, practically hugging him from behind. It was understandable; with only one saddle and a mount that could just barely hold the two of them, Urianger needed to hold on tight lest he fly off the bird’s back. Yet there was still something intimate about it. His warmth ebbed to a gentle heat, and his scent was intoxicating. The Elezen smelled of sweat and adrenaline, a remnant of the rough battle they had just endured, but a bit of the cologne he always wore still clung to his skin. It was a calming, earthy scent, like pine and balsam. It wasn’t all too different from how he smelled after they made love, and that only gave cause to kindle the already stifling heat growing in Thancred’s groin. But there was something else there too. The scent of gunpowder and smoke; it was Thancred’s natural scent, having rubbed off on him from the coat. Gods help Thancred to not pull the bird aside and make a mess of him on the spot.

_“Hang in there, Waters…”_ Thancred thought, _“Patience is a virtue.”_

***

The chocobo slowed from a gallop to a trot as it reached the city limits of Mor Dhona. It let out a faint “kweh” as it stopped in front of the Rising Stones. Urianger was quick to dismount, running inside and closing the doors behind him to avoid the needless stares of passersby. Thancred would join him inside shortly, but he needed to pay his fare. The cost wasn’t much, but still, a gil saved is a gil earned. Perhaps he could later convince Tataru that this was a Scion outing, as he, Urianger, and the Warrior of Light had embarked upon this quest together, and ask for reimbursement. She would probably scold him, but at least his spending habits weren’t as poor as Alphinaud’s. He returned the chocobo to the porter in Mor Dhona, paying the fine of 40 gil before walking into the Scions’ headquarters.

The tavern portion of the Rising Stones seemed busy as ever, minstrels performing, miqo’te barmaids dancing cheerfully for patron tips, alcohol flowing freely as a good time was had by all. Normally after a mission, Thancred would like to unwind with a nice, cold flagon of house mead, but not today. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer. The Hyur walked through the back door, entering the headquarters. The sound of laughter immediately assaulted his eardrums, and he rushed forth to see Allisaie giggling simply at the sight of Urianger’s glamour, Thancred’s coat now folded neatly on a chair beside him. Y’Shtola, G’Raha Tia, and her twin brother Alphinaud stood beside her, some trying to subdue her reaction, others having a giggle as well.

“Pray laugh not so, Mistress Leveilleur…” Urianger sighed, “I am well aware of how foolish I look.”

“Foolish is an understatement!” she chuckled, “Pink isn’t your best color if I may say so.”

“Come now Alisaie,” G’Raha Tia urged, “It’s rude to tease…”

“I think it looks good on you,” Y’Shtola added, her tone unclear whether she was serious or teasing him as well, “Though perhaps a darker color would suit your complexion better, Urianger.”

“Twas not by choice that I found mineself wearing this garb…” he sighed, “Prithee, allow me to pass so I mayst change back into my standard attire…”

“Ok, ok fine,” Alisaie conceded, “But thanks for the laugh. Gods knew I needed one.”

Urianger hung his head in shame, retreating into the Dawn’s Respite. Thancred gritted his teeth. The Elezen looked completely humiliated. Even if it was just the playful teasing of a few friends, Urianger was still a sensitive man. Yet he was never wont to show these feelings, hiding them away for himself alone. Thancred rushed into the side room after him, hoping to provide a bit of comfort to the man he cared so dearly about. He closed the door behind him, finding the Elezen frantically looking for a spare change of clothes, or at least a glamour dispeller to remove this humiliating outfit.

“Urianger…” Thancred said.

“Not thee as well…” Urianger choked, “Thancred, I beg of thee to avert thy gaze… This has grown too embarrassing for mine heart to bear…”

“What are you talking about Urianger?”

“Didst thou think not that I saw how thou stared at me before? How mine visage appeared so ridiculous that thou couldst not tear away thy gaze? The chides of mine other allies matter not to me, but if thou dost think mine appearance to be so repulsive, then I shall return to covering mineself completely for thine benefit. Mayhap a mask wouldst prove a proper remedy…”

Thancred was dumbfounded. As bright as Urianger was, the Elezen certainly had a difficult time processing social cues. He was shocked to think Urianger thought that he found him ridiculous looking, let alone unattractive, in this outfit. Thancred approached his lover, holding onto his hand tenderly. The Elezen’s golden eyes brimmed with tears, and it looked as if it was taking all of his strength to hold them back.

“Urianger,” Thancred said earnestly, “What you’re thinking… it couldn’t be farther from the truth, my love.”

“Pardon?” Urianger wondered, “But, this outfit reveals much of mine body…”

“You don’t think I _like_ that?”

Thancred pressed his lips against Urianger’s knuckle, kissing it gently and making the elezen blush.

“I couldn’t keep my eyes off of you,” Thancred cooed.

“Then thou didst stare…” Urianger frowned.

“Because I was mesmerized.”

Silence.

“The way you looked, the way you moved, it took all of my restraint not to just embrace you in front of everyone in the middle of the Library,” Thancred hummed, “But I fear I’m growing impatient.”

He stood up on the tip of his toes, playfully kissing Urianger’s neck. Urianger let out a low mewl of approval, his ears growing red.

“Then thou dost mean to say,” Urianger mewled, “That thou found not mine attire ridiculous looking?”

“You look so godsdamn sexy,” Thancred purred, “I’m amazed you can’t see it for yourself.”

Urianger’s breath hitched as Thancred’s hands wandered up to his chest, pulling down the fabric of the bodice to free his chest. His fingers tweaked at his nipples, rubbing the pink nubs until they hardened. Urianger could feel himself beginning to tent, the head of his erection peeking out from the hem of his panties. He looked down, the outline of Thancred’s hardened cock now straining against his trousers.

“Urianger,” Thancred whispered, “Will you dance for me?”

“Now?” Urianger asked, “Art thou certain?”

“I know it’s selfish to ask for a private show, but I can’t help myself. Charm me, Uri. Show me how beautiful you can be.”

Urianger’s heart felt like it had jumped out of his chest. He never really found himself to be much to look at, but hearing Thancred call him beautiful made his insecurities flit away. Thancred could have his choice of all the fairest maidens in Eorzea. He was handsome, a charmer, and a hero of the star for that matter. Yet the hyur still chose him, devoted himself to him, loved him. It would be rude of him to not reciprocate.

“Very well then,” Urianger smirked.

Thancred pulled aside a chair, sitting down and making himself comfortable. Urianger took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When dancing for battle, there was a certain rhythm he followed, yet now, he seemed to follow his heart. He stepped forward, dancing passionately for his lover. His body moved on its own, flourishing hand motions, pointing his toes as he twirled and leapt. It was no set style in particular, but it was born from the heart, from his love for Thancred, from his desire to charm him. Thancred’s endearing gaze seemed to only cheer him on, the Elezen dancing for him and only him. It was invigorating, liberating, and Urianger loved every second of it. Urianger stepped back, panting for breath from his spontaneous dance. Sweat dripped down his face, and his skin grew even ruddier, but he felt somehow happy. Thancred smiled, clapping his hands to cheer Urianger on.

“You’re breathtaking,” Thancred praised, “Thank you for dancing for me, Uri.”

“Thou art too kind,” Urianger smiled, “Though it pleases me greatly that thou didst enjoy it.”

Thancred opened his arms and grinned ear to ear. His lap looked so inviting.

“Come here,” he urged, “Let me hold you close.”

Urianger was quick to comply, sitting down on the smaller man’s lap. Thancred ran his fingers through Urianger’s sweat soaked hair, pushing the silvery strands behind his pointed ear to better admire his beautiful face. His hand traced his prominent cheekbones, down to his tattoo, to his facial hair. Urianger loved Thancred’s gentle touches like these. The intimacy was so warm and comforting, he felt he could become entranced from Thancred’s touch alone. The Elezen leaned forward, pressing his lips against the Hyur’s. The scratch of the slightly chapped lips against his still felt like a soothing balm, Urianger closing his eyes and relaxing into the kiss. As they shared their passionate embrace, Thancred’s hands caressed his lover’s body. They trailed down his tapering waist, dipping under his skirt to grope at the globes of his rear.

“Wouldst thou care to make love?” Urianger asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Thancred cooed, “Be a dear and go find some lube.”

Urianger stood up from Thancred’s lap, walking over to the cabinet where Krile kept her medical supplies. The Dawn’s Respite served as an infirmary of sorts while the Scions souls had been spirited away to the First, but back when the Scions had first relocated to Mor Dhona, Thancred had often used this spare room for _additional_ purposes. Urianger cringed to think how many women he had taken on these cots, but that didn’t matter anymore. Thancred had set that past behind him, and was wholly devoted to him. He eventually found a vial of oil, not explicitly meant for lubricant, but it would still work without giving either of them an infection.

“Have you found it yet?” Thancred teased.

“Verily,” Urianger replied.

“Good, good. Now hurry back.”

Urianger returned to Thancred. He was still sitting in his chair, but had since freed his cock from the confines of his trousers, the pulsing length now twitching in want and dripping precum.

“Sit back down on my lap,” Thancred ordered, “I’ll take you right here.”

“Dost thou not want to remove our garments prior?” Urianger worried, “I would loathe to sully one of Ceiglona’s glamours.”

“We can just wash it later. You don’t know how badly I want to fuck you in this.”

“If tis what thou dost desire… I suppose we mayst, though it might be wise to remove the undergarments.”

“Fair enough.”

Urianger stripped off the pink pair of panties, his hard member brushing against both Thancred’s own and the petticoat of the skirt as he straddled him. He passed the lube onto Thancred, who made short work of slicking his fingers before teasing against his puckered hole. Urianger mewled as Thancred’s digit slipped inside, slowly coaxing him open. The way Thancred stretched him always felt amazing, taking his time to massage his insides and tease his delicate prostate. But he loathed to remain passive, to let only himself melt into the delectable pleasure as Thancred twitched in anticipation and want. Urianger cupped his palm around both his and Thancred’s straining erections before wrapping his long, slender fingers around them both. Rhythmically, he began stroking both lengths together, the warm, slippery friction between the two of them making Urianger’s vision go white. An aroused growl rumbled deep in Thancred’s throat, only encouraging Urianger to pick up the pace of his frotting.

“Fuck…” Thancred hissed, “That feels nice, Uri.”

Urianger smirked, leaning in to kiss Thancred passionately. His tongue slipped past Thancred’s lips, intertwining with Thancred’s own. This was intense. The sweet pressure against his prostate as Thancred pressed in another finger, the rising heat in his balls as he stroked their cocks together, the sloppy but loving kisses from his dear lover; Urianger could climax at any moment if not careful. He wanted to release, but not until Thancred was inside of him, not until his deepest spot could feel Thancred’s tender embrace. With one more finger scissoring in an out of him, Urianger was finally ready, gods knew both of them wanted it. Thancred withdrew his fingers, slicking his dick with plenty of lube before grinding it teasingly against Urianger’s cheeks.

“What art thou…” Urianger whimpered, “Pray, torture me no longer… Thy teasing is far too cruel…”

“Beg for it,” Thancred ordered.

“Prithee, embrace me…”

“Mm, not quite there…”

“Make love to me...”

“Ah, ah. No need for such flowery speech. Say it, Urianger. Talk dirty for me, whore.”

“ _Fuck_ me.”

“That’s more like it.”

Urianger bit down on Thancred’s neck as the hyur’s swollen glans spread his rim open. The first thrust inside always caught Urianger by surprise, no matter how many times they did it. Thancred was surprisingly big and it often took the elezen a minute or two to adjust once he was fully sheathed, but they were both far too impatient today. No sooner had Thancred bottomed out did he begin rutting hard and fast into Urianger’s body. Urianger hardly had the time to catch his breath, already writhing in pleasure as Thancred pounded into him. His mind went blank and his jaw slack. Even the twinge of pain from the sudden start didn’t matter. In a way, it made the pleasure feel even more intense.

Thancred couldn’t get enough of the sight before him. Urianger always made the sexiest expressions when they made love, his golden eyes appearing even more vibrant, his ruddy skin flushing all the way from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. This wasn’t the first time they had sex while clothed before, but in this outfit, Urianger seemed even more erotic than normal. His pink nipples bounced out of the low cut top with each thrust upward, and the frilly skirt hitched up, a wet spot of precum already forming in the front despite all the layers of the petticoat underneath. It was just like his dancing, Thancred couldn’t look away, and he was utterly captivated.

“How about you try moving now, Uri?” Thancred whispered, nibbling on the elezen’s sensitive cartilage.

“I am uncertain if- ahh… I can maintain thy pace,” Urianger mewled.

“Just move in a way that makes you feel good.”

Urianger began moving his hips on his own, grinding the curve of Thancred’s member deep inside. It scraped against his prostate, making cries of pleasure leak from his mouth. The elezen didn’t even care about how loud he was moaning, how heavily he was gasping for breath, how shameful his expressions were. It felt too good.

“Oh, Thancred,” Urianger panted.

“Urianger,” Thancred growled, “Sorry, I can’t hold back anymore.”

Thancred slammed himself all the way inside of Urianger, making the elezen throw his head back in ecstasy. His fist gripped around Urianger’s member, stroking it fervently as he thrust deep inside. Urianger couldn’t hold it anymore, each stroke and pump inching him closer to climax. With one last thrust, the elezen came, his essence spilling from his cock and coating both Thancred’s hand and the skirt’s petticoat. Urianger’s tight walls clenched around Thancred’s member, coaxing out his own release deep into his body. The Elezen collapsed limp on top of the hyur, his legs still trembling from the intensity of his orgasm.

“I’ll have to ask Ceiglona where she got this glamour,” Thancred panted, pulling his softening cock out of Urianger’s hole, “You were so cute in this.”

“Mayhap,” Urianger suggested, his breath still a bit ragged from their intense lovemaking, “I couldst invest more in the dancer class, and devise mine own glamour that wouldst suit thy tastes.”

“Oh? What were you thinking?”

“Perhaps a sarouel of sheer chiffon, mayhap with a veil across mine mouth and cropped bodice encircling mine chest.”

“As long as you promise to wear it when you next dance for me.”

Urianger smiled tenderly, kissing Thancred on his cheek as the two basked in their afterglow.

“Gladly,” he cooed, “For thou shalt always be mine dance partner.”

**Author's Note:**

> For context, my partner has been grinding Gubal Hard for three years, running it hundreds of times to hunt down the Valkyrie's Cuirass of Fending for his WOL, but it has never dropped. It has gotten to the point of it becoming a running joke in our FC to ask him "Hey Goro, you doin' Gubal?" whenever he's online, and I just had to poke fun at that a bit more.  
> Update: THE CUIRASS FINALLY DROPPED AND HE GOT IT


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